SR Harry Log 1
Harry got up from the couch, which was still brand new and covered in shrink wrap. It was over a month since he moved to the new flat, and it still was in pristine condition, aside from a pizza stain on the fresh beige carpet. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a Corona, opening it with a swift twist and tossing the cap onto a pile on the kitchen table. New York was different from Seattle. For one thing, the weather was a lot better. There was less acid rain. The meteorologists and weather shamans both claim that the rainfall in Washington is actually below the North American average, but everyone who lived in Seattle knew it was a lie. Harry thought about how Jenny always loved the rain, even though she had to wear layers of chem. She said she loved the noise it makes as it beat down on the roof of their flat. It was raining the day he found her there in the flat, lifeless on the carpet. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, and then made a loose cross over his face, as if it would dispel the demons of his past life. He set down his Corona and pulled out a cigarette, a habit he thought he had quit several years ago. Seemed like a good time to start up again, he thought. After all, they haven't killed him yet. His phone rang. He brought up the number on his display link. When he saw the number, his eyes widened, and the cigarette dropped out of his mouth. "Fuck," he said, as he picked up his commlink. Speak of the devil, thought Harry as a familiar face popped up on the screen. "Harry! Guten Tag! Or should I say, 'Howya doin'?'", the blonde stately head of a corporate suit appeared on his mini-trid, grinning as it attempted a poor rendition of a Jersey accent. "I'm in New York, you fuck. How the hell did you get a hold of this number?" Already, Harry was thinking of 3 different bolt-holes. I can catch the next flight out with my pass, he thought. "Harry! Freund! Why must ve always start our conversations the same way? 'How die hell you get die number?' " chuckled the talking head, mocking Harry's tone of voice, "Really, you should know by now meine Herr employer keeps tabs on everyone." "Get to the point, Hans," said Harry, as he tersely cut off the irritating man. The ancient street axiom ran through his head "Never deal with a dragon". Of course, it would help if one actually knew he was dealing with a dragon in the first place. "First, I vould like to esspress my condolances on your loss. I vant to assure you that ve had nothing to do with it," said the man, attempting to express consolation with a slick greasy smile that ruined the effect. "Naturally. If you wanted me dead, I would have been in the apartment. It was the work of amateurs," said Harry, coldly. Even amateurs can ruin your life, though, he thought. What was that other saying? The only thing more dangerous than a professional is an amateur. I'm full of old fart sayings today, thought Harry. "And ve only hire professionals. Vich is vy ve are calling you today. Ve heard you are back on the market, and vould like your assistance in some sensitive matter." "I never said I was back on the market," said Harry, lying through his teeth. Moving to New York, while the only option he had, was a sudden, immediate decision. He had to cut and run, like he had always done in the past when the shit hits the fan, and that meant leaving behind his old credit accounts attached to his legitimate life. He needed money, and needed it fast. "Oh, vell, in that case, my apology. Do you have someding else planned?" said the suit, continuing his unwavering grin. "Just give me the scoop, 'old friend'," said Harry, oozing with sarcasm. "Ah, details, details. You vill find out the details very soon, mein Freund. Suffice to say, ve have a job, and it's a gut job." "I will need a team. All of my old contacts are dead or back ho... where I used to live." "That can be arranged. Business has been very gut. You shadowrunners keep busy, even in New York." Harry said nothing. He didn't know the area, didn't know the local shadows. He was out of his element. He had been around the world, to Hong Kong, Chiba, Denver, Bug City, Dee Cee, and many other places. New York seemed to be a different urban jungle. More like an animal, a carnivore that could devour him whole. Still, it was work. And if his past experiences with this Johnson panned out, it would pay well. "And really, Harry. Fuck? Are you trying to be, how you say, trendy? I didn't know you vere into zat retro slang." "Hans. I AM retro. I owned that word long before the script-kiddies thought it was 'the frag-all'. See you at the usual pl... wait, I guess we don't have a usual place anymore, eh?" "Oh. You are correct, mein Freund. Fear not. I vill have a list of locations zat you can choose from. You can pick out vich one is suitable to your... tastes." "I know the drill," said Harry, as he hung up. Hans Brackhaus. Harry's last encounter with the man left 2 of his team dead, but it also brought an assurance from the Johnson that his "employer" would hold him in enough esteem to leave Harry alone. Which is more than one could ask for when dealing with Lofwyr. But that was then, and this is now, he thought. "God, I have to get these aphorisms out of my head," grumbled Harry, as he grabbed his armor jacket and keys to head out the door. "I'm starting to sound like my old man..." Category:Shadowrun